Accidentally Amy

by Lynn Painter

Because the truth of it was, I didn’t know how to make friends. Maybe I had at one time, but I had no idea how to do it as an adult. Like, I felt I’d missed a class on this or something.

Side note: Every time he called me Iz, a sex angel got its wings.

The way big, powerful Blake looked at his feline friend as he talked shit about him made me a little weak in the knees.

He fibbed about little things, and he lied about enormously important things; the man was an equal-opportunity liar.

Nicknamification, in my opinion, was the absolute sexiest.

I opened my eyes—which was far more difficult than it sounded—and he was looking down at me with so much sex in his eyes that I felt dizzy.

It was way too soon to feel that much—impossible to love her already—but I knew it with absolute certainty.

“Because you’re this fucking gorgeous sweet weirdo that I am obsessed with.”

“Honey, I was hooked the minute you felt me up at Scooter’s, checking for a third nipple in those dirty-ass glasses like some kind of nutjob.”